


House of the Rising Sun

by TheFire_in_the_NightSky



Series: Paper Cranes [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotions, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Noctis Lives, Reunion Sex, Scar Worship, True Love, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFire_in_the_NightSky/pseuds/TheFire_in_the_NightSky
Summary: Ignis is about to reunite with Noct for the first time in nearly a decade.  Is he prepared for the tidal waves of emotions that brings, and will their relationship be what it was after all this time spent in limbo?_______________He is about to see Noctis again; speak to him, touch him, hold him.Will he still let me?Ignis wonders if he will be the same; iftheywill.On the drive over, Gladio and Prompto had vocalised their excited disbelief over Noct’s return, and Prompto had playfully punched Ignis in the arm from the backseat, asking for his input, but Ignis couldn’t trust his voice to not betray what he was truly feeling if he spoke too long on the matter.One word would trail after another, then heavy thoughts would surely catch upon consonants he’d long missed emphasising.





	House of the Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I had a little more than half of this written over a month ago and just got stuck. But I'm so happy I was able to finish this piece without sitting on it much longer! I keep writing sombre, dark-but-hopeful Ignoct pieces now ::shrug:: But hopefully someone enjoys it! I just really wanted to write older Ignoct reunion sex haha

  
  
  


_“I’m fine._ I’ll be right behind you. I just… need a moment, you understand.” Ignis brushes his wayward hair from his eyes and peers at Prompto and Gladio from above his tinted visor while they look over at him expectantly. Turning away from them again, Ignis sighs and bows his head between his shoulders. He leans his weight heavily on his hands as he places them atop the weapon-cluttered table of the booth. Ignis can practically feel Prompto itch to come to his side to make sure he is his _friends’_ definition of _fine._

But his word must be enough, for they each nod in Ignis’s direction finally, and head out of Takka’s. Everyone else has gathered outside, but Ignis isn’t quite prepared for everything that comes next, whatever that may end up being. All of the after, could not be planned out down to the last minute detail. He’s helped prepare and research and hypothesise for nearly a decade, but this is the one thing Ignis’s mind cannot wrap itself around. He is about to see Noctis again; speak to him, touch him, hold him. _Will he still let me?_

Ignis wonders if he will be the same; if _they_ will.

On the drive over, Gladio and Prompto had vocalised their excited disbelief over Noct’s return, and Prompto had playfully punched Ignis in the arm from the backseat, asking for his input, but Ignis couldn’t trust his voice to not betray what he was truly feeling if he spoke too long on the matter.

One word would trail after another, then heavy thoughts would surely catch upon consonants he’d long missed emphasising.

Ignis recalls he’d also not wanted his disappointment at not being able to speak to Noct over Talcott’s phone to show in any way. He’d kept his emotions reserved then, despite wanting terribly to hear Noctis’s voice, and would try to keep them in check now, as well.

 _Noctis’s voice._ He wants with sudden desperation, to _hear Noct’s voice;_ hear it out loud instead of in his head or in dreams and nightmares, or phone conversations he was denied. Will it be just as he remembers? Memory could, after all, easily trick the mind when the senses went without. And _Gods,_ had Ignis gone without.

But not anymore.

Ignis grabs his heavy leather jacket and pulls it on, grasping with trembling hands for the hood of his shirt that’s gotten lost inside the collar. He curses his nerves as he removes his visor, placing it in the pouch strapped to his thigh below a dagger, and walks over towards the door. Squinting somewhat painfully now in the bright fluorescence of the restaurant, Ignis looks out the windows and sees the cool blue of Talcott’s headlights illuminating a small crowd slowly gathering - and one lean, dark shape in a _suit._

Ignis faintly remembers coming to in front of the Crystal and admiring what a fine figure Noct cut in his royal raiment before the pain-induced delirium and fuzzy consciousness edged back in to suffocate him...

Hugs, handshakes, and jovial shoves are being exchanged outside, and Ignis feels like he’s watching a projected moment borne of hope, not something real taking place several metres away. Ignis feels the pull, the tug. In automatic movements, his long legs quickly take him out the door, and towards the crowd.

Noctis is the beckoning moon and Ignis, his raring tide.

At the sound of his bootsoles hitting the pavement, people part and Ignis is suddenly overcome by the blue-limned glow of Noctis amidst a dark snow-like-fall of ash.

At first, Ignis thinks he almost resembles a younger Regis, despite the straggly, unkempt hair framing his face and the dirt and soot from the Scourge covering him. But, as Ignis gets a closer look at him, he knows this truly is _his Noct._ Noctis stays put, but gives Ignis his best crooked grin, and Ignis loses it with that one small expression. Biting back a sob, Ignis covers his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, the other bracing against his knee as he doubles over from the shock of it all.

“You okay, Iggy?” He hears Gladio’s gruff voice ask. Ignis doesn’t look, but he can hear the smile that’s there. He doesn’t ignore it, but he’s trying his best to concentrate on the chalky grey of the concrete beneath his dirty brown boots at the moment. Fallen tears darken the coating of ash in dark little speckles.

Soon, Prompto scuttles over and places a hand on his back. _“It’s really him,_ Igster. He’s really here!” Prompto whispers an excited reassurance. “You gonna be okay, buddy?”

Feeling a little embarrassed, Ignis stands and turns away from everyone, sniffling, though he answers his friends’ questions with a few emphatic nods. From the corner of his eye, he sees Prompto back away. Ignis bites into the leather of his glove and screws his eyes shut against the flow of more tears and the soft tap of dress shoes approaching.

A hand lands heavy on his left shoulder, and then another gently removes his own hand from his mouth. It all devastates Ignis’s composure further, and nothing can muffle the sound of his quiet sobs now. Still, Ignis doesn’t open his eyes - not until fingers tangle with his and he feels warm flesh beneath his uncovered fingertips. 

_He is tangible, real,_ **_alive_ ** _._ Something deep, dark, and vigilant hisses _“for now”_ to his doubts.

“Hey… Hey, I’m here…” With a heavy exhale, Ignis tilts his head towards _that voice,_ and seeing Noct standing in front of him is more than he can take. He tugs Noct to him, and they fall into a crushing embrace. Noct dances the hand on Ignis’s shoulder upwards to grasp the back of his neck as Ignis hides his tears in Noct’s hair. 

“You’ve no idea how incomplete I’ve been without you,” Ignis whispers, voice strained. Noctis kisses the side of his neck hard, and the subtle rasp of his beard is strange, but not altogether unwelcome. 

“Ohh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, myself.” Leaning back a little ways, Noctis stares up at Ignis, then traces the middle finger of his right hand along the varying degrees of scarring that mars Ignis’s face. 

Noct’s eyes bring back a memory of the night sky, in the space between the light of a full moon and the inky blue that used to house the stars before the Long Night. Ignis had missed getting lost in that blue oblivion. “You sure took a gamble, Ignis. And don’t think I’ve forgotten our promise all these years.” Tears fall along Noctis’s cheeks too, leaving clear trails among the soot.

The smile that follows Noctis’s words helps Ignis find his own again; a smile that’s genuine, one he truly feels with everything in him. He feels it in his heart and so, Ignis gives Noct a kiss that stems straight from that part of him as well, and he can’t be arsed to care who sees it now.

Around eleven, everyone around Hammerhead begins packing it in for the night, and some have already retired to tents or taken off hours prior to other small safe zones - wanting to prove to their king that their sense of duty is unwavering, even in celebratory times such as this.

Ignis’s thumb glides across the cracked watch face at his wrist, always marvelling at time since the loss of sunlight made such concepts nearly moot. But time was something he had an abundance of these last ten years; it became his ally, as well as his enemy.

Time also helped keep perspective.

At unanimous insistence, Noctis is given the caravan to stay in for the night so he can take advantage of its meagre amenities and an actual bed.

Ignis feels stranded. He doesn’t want to _assume,_ though everyone else seems to after Noct ducks into the caravan for a shower and shave. Both Prompto and Gladio give him bemused looks when he tells them he’s content with sharing a tent with them - to which Prompto also follows up with the eloquent query of, “Um… Dude, _why?”_

Perhaps it is silly, to not invite himself into Noct’s bed after all this time. Something about it still feels improper, and everyone would _know,_ besides. It all makes Ignis’s insides squirm. Sneaking around for years on end with the royal heir would do that to a man, he supposed.

Pack slung over his shoulder, Ignis knocks on the caravan door. He winces at the obnoxious glass panes that rattle in their loose metal frame before Noct opens up.

“Speccy.” The childhood nickname is coated in reverence and relief. Somehow, with hair damp, skin reddened from hasty, unpracticed passes of a razor, and old, borrowed sleeping clothes of Ignis’s that still don’t manage to cling to his body properly, Noctis remains regal in Ignis’s eyes.

Ignis steps up into the caravan, nudging the door closed with his heel, and Noctis passes by him to lock it, taking Ignis’s pack from him to settle on the floor nearby when he’s finished. It all feels oddly formal, as if Ignis was simply paying Noct a visit at his own home or flat. There’s also a faint sense of normalcy to these little gestures. He wants to smile at the thought of Noctis offering him tea or some such domestic nonsense.

Instead, he is instantly offered a drink from the well of Noctis’s warm mouth. Each brush of their lips feeds air to the glowing cinder no other man could stoke within Ignis. And he never cared to try and test that theory. The eager whimper resonating from the back of Noctis’s throat tells Ignis he was so very stupid to entertain even a sliver of doubt in this.

“Ah, _you…”_ Ignis sighs between Noct’s parted lips, and with it bleeds out a flow of worry and loneliness. He can feel the vulpine grin that forms against his cheek as Noctis turns his head to place a kiss there.

He lets Noctis lead them back to the dimly lit “bedroom” and as the curtain is drawn behind them, a flash of memory comes to Ignis of how on their fateful journey years ago, they’d both try their damndest to be so very quiet and discreet, lest their sleeping friends hear from their bunks.

Ignis pushes Noctis up against the wall and relishes in the muffled bang the collective weight of their bodies makes on impact, as well as the groans that leave their throats at the roughness of it.

Fingers tense in hair, against fabric and skin, and Ignis feels the need to ask his dear friend a litany of questions. He wants to know if the visions he’d been sent match up to Noct’s experience in the Crystal; or if change has truly been set in motion already. _What did Noctis see?_ _Do? Learn?_ The questions are brushed away with the swipe of Noct’s tongue against his own. Ignis will not deny them this for niggling anxieties and interrogations that can bloody well wait their turn a little longer.

Ignis pulls away hesitantly. “You must be tired,” he states, because he _must_ know they are still on the same page in this drawn-out tragedy.

Noctis huffs against Ignis’s neck. His mouth hovers and his amused breath dampens Ignis’s chilled skin as he strips him. “Actually, I’ve never been more awake.” In a move so very Noct, he finishes tugging Ignis’s jacket free and tosses it carelessly to the floor in front of the bed. “Backing out on me, Ignis?”

_“Never.”_

But Ignis stills Noctis’s hands when they go for the hem of his thick hooded shirt. Just as Ignis had not yet truly _seen_ Noctis like this in the flesh before today - older, time-worn by prophecy and magic - Noctis had not seen him like _this._ He'd not yet witnessed the evidence of his unconditional, unwavering love mapped out across his flesh.

Beneath his shaking hands, Ignis lets Noct’s fingers curl beneath the fabric to resume their upward pull; the knuckles of Noct’s right hand ghost against muscles made more prominent by too much burned energy and not enough of a regular eating habit. The Ring pricks and rasps across a raised scar along his ribs as if to say, _“Ah, I remember you.”_

Noctis runs the backs of his hands down Ignis’s bare torso now, briefly pinching his nipples between the knuckles of his middle and forefingers before smoothing a palm down Ignis’s scar-ravaged left arm.

It took quite some time for Ignis to lose his body-shyness around Noct, but now… marred as he is, Ignis wants to cower away like some grotesque phantasm.

Noctis pushes away from the wall, shucking his own shirt as they make it the short distance to the bed. Somehow, Ignis feels more exposed now, and he wasn’t even the one hidden between a wall and warm body.

As he runs his hand up that thick, familiar scar at Noctis’s back, Ignis brings their mouths together. What starts slow and deep becomes a mimicry of what’s to come and Ignis all but growls into Noct’s mouth when he presses a hand into Ignis’s lower back, forcing their hips to meet in a long, lazy grind.

Ignis is hard against Noct’s stomach already; where the mind could sometimes forget, the body always remembers.

He sits heavy on the edge of the bed and stares up at Noct for a moment like a supplicant servant to his king. With a booted toe, he pulls his nearby pack closer, thankful he'd brought it into the room with them. His hands quickly find the tin of slick and set it next to him on the comforter.

Noctis undresses the rest of the way, letting Ignis lean forward to nuzzle his cheek against his jutting cock for an all too brief act of worship. He kneels between Ignis’s knees to undo his boot laces, then bodily presses Ignis into the mattress as he makes quick work of his belt. Another layer is slowly peeled from Ignis’s prone form and he kicks off his boots along with his jeans.

Tin in hand, Noct guides them backwards in a slinking crawl to the pillows. He thumbs at the scar along Ignis’s bottom lip then kisses him sweetly as Ignis’s legs part for his weight with a practiced welcome.

“How’d you get that one? I don’t remember-” Noctis frowns slightly when he pulls away.

“A hunt gone awry. Not an act so valiant like the others, I’m afraid. My eyesight was still in the beginning stages of healing and I was a mite too sure in my arrogance.” He smirks up at Noct, who merely shakes his head.

“Stop doing stupid, brave shit. I need you in one piece, y’know...”

Ignis reaches his scarred hand up to cup Noctis’s face. “Come what may, anything for you will never be cause for regret.”

Noctis grips his hand, pressing it to his lips as he turns to lay kisses into Ignis’s palm. Ignis keeps his hand in place when Noct lets go to wrap his hand around Ignis’s cock. The kisses to Ignis’s palm become more open-mouthed as Noct pumps him slowly, and the head of his cock nudges Ignis’s entrance with each minute thrusts of his hips. He's holding back - they both are; Ignis knows it by the quiver in Noct’s thighs and the little hitches in his breath. He pets adoringly at Noctis’s cheek with his thumb then drags it along the pale pink of his mouth, pulling down along the wet swell of Noctis’s bottom lip until teeth latch on.

A desperate mewl escapes Noct as he sucks and bites at the intrusive digit. The slick press of Noctis’s leaking cock-head against Ignis’s hole has his muscles tensing and shuddering while he tries to maintain control of his body. Every nerve _aches_ for this, alive with memory for the one that makes his heart sing.

Noctis gives one last hard bite down to the knuckle of Ignis’s thumb as he presses down on Noct’s tongue. “Show me what you do to yourself while I've been gone,” Noct says breathlessly as he pulls his mouth away from Ignis’s hand.

He watches Noct wriggle back on his knees a little ways, then props his thighs atop Noctis’s before grabbing the tin beside him.

This isn’t anything they haven’t done before - only it was usually Noct playing the petulant brat when they were younger, teasing Ignis with his impatience as he spread himself on his bed, fingers beckoning Ignis from within his body to join him instead of going over a monotonous stack of reports. And it always, always worked, because Noctis knew that not many things made Ignis jealous, but a missed opportunity at making Noctis come by his attentions and his alone, was one he was loathe to repeat.

Ignis wills his lust-heavy eyelids to remain open as his slick fingers circle and prod at the tight ring of muscle between his legs. His cock twitches at the touch, pre-come dribbling glossy from the tip. He relaxes himself by watching the way Noct’s brows still furrow in the same way they always had when they made love. _He’s still my Noct,_ Ignis thinks to himself.

Noctis slowly rubs his hands up and down Ignis’s thighs approvingly, occasionally gripping them harder when Ignis starts to thrust two fingers inside himself. It’s as if he’s keeping himself from touching either of them in the way Ignis knows _he wants._

Deep, stuttered moans leave Ignis as Noctis places his hand at the point where Ignis’s fingers disappear into his body over and over with sure movements of his wrist. Noct’s mouth falls agape while he lets himself feel the way Ignis fucks himself, then adds one of his own fingers, and it’s nearly too much.

 _“Ohh, fuck, Iggy…”_ Noctis sighs, trying to curl his finger alongside both of Ignis’s.

Impatience tightens in the coils of Ignis’s body and he narrows his seafoam green eyes on Noctis’s blue. “What are you… waiting for then, Noct? ...Ten more years?” he barely manages to snark.

Noctis laughs and leans down to kiss Ignis with a smile. He removes their fingers and coats his cock in more slick as his mouth works its way down Ignis’s jawline.

Ignis sighs at the first slight push of Noct’s cock inside him. “You okay?” Noct asks him while his hips give the smallest incremental thrusts forward. Ignis nods and mutters, “Slow” to him.

Relieved groans rumble in their chests as Noctis sinks down atop Ignis, sliding forward into him and back again with a near-frustrating gentleness. Fingers rake through Ignis’s dark blond fringe, pushing it back off his forehead. Those same fingers trail down the left side of his face, tracing each scar - faint and deep - along the way, and the look in Noct’s eyes speaks of something Ignis wants terribly to remark upon.

Skin meets skin, meets breath into shallower breath. Their bodies writhe and bow with each deep thrust of Noctis’s. The only thought in Ignis’s mind beyond pleasure and love keeps tripping over _finally, finally, finally._ He pants the word mixed with Noctis’s name against his throat like a secret chant.

Noctis moves to hook his arm beneath Ignis’s right thigh and keeps their hips flush, but the new angle has them both calling out. With his fingers tangling tight into Noct’s dusky black hair and clawing pink trails along his shoulders, Ignis kisses him hard to muffle their moans that begin to grow in volume. Noct’s tongue mirrors the roll of his hips until a flutter low in Ignis’s belly has him trying to meet each slow undulation in a bid for more and more.

 _“Noct… Harder.”_ He all but begs and each fluid motion of Noctis’s lower body ends now with a snap of his hips, driving his cock hard into Ignis’s prostate. Noctis reaches between them to take him in hand as he picks up the pace. The sticky glide of Noct’s hand along his length nearly drives Ignis over the edge right then and there.

With a claiming bite to Ignis’s shoulder, Noct whimpers into the muscle between his teeth, revealing his tell. “Close, Noct?” Ignis whispers against his ear.

Quickly nodding, Noctis tells him, “Really fucking close. You feel so good, Specs. Gods, I missed you.” He leans over Ignis for a moment, watching the movement between their bodies, and Ignis can’t help but let his eyes follow where Noct’s lead. “I love you always, no matter what, okay?” Noct says when his deep cobalt eyes come to rest on Ignis’s face once more. And that is what shatters and unmakes him.

Ignis presses the side of his face into the pillow as he comes with a gasp, eyes pinching shut as the waves crash over him, nearly pulling him apart. Noctis plunges in after him seconds later, body curling and shuddering into Ignis’s own.

“And I love _you..._ my Noctis,” Ignis murmurs across sweat-damp skin, his lips cementing his affection soon after. Noctis’s moans of ecstacy seem to grow with the declaration before they finally fade away into the everything after. The claustrophobic, panelled walls of the little caravan room, the hazy blue-grey of its shadows with the one pinpoint of orange, shaded light that is the bedside lamp - feeling too weak a lightsource with the lack of moonlight. And then it’s _them;_ an embrace of arms and legs and lips and scars in the darkness.

Days later, and it is _days -_ remarkably bright, warm days -that tangle is replicated by way of yellow-white glows cast through ash-cloudy windows. Morning-new light beams rolling along motion of the bare skin of a hip where it meets the curve of muscled thighs to backside, to the concave arch of a back that leads to the spread of a ribcage as it expands on a shouted name. 

Noctis sings Ignis’s praises in a myriad of ways, thanking him for his life, and with it, the continuation of their story - their love. The sun warms them as one body rises against another, but even now, in its returning newness, the sun does nothing to replace the heat from the blinding corona that has always been the centre of Ignis’s universe, pulling him ever, blissfully, inward to join him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who has read this!  
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always much adored<3


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